Kire rolled her eyes. “It was hypothetical. I was putting myself in his frame of mind. You’re too stubborn to die that way, I wager.” She glanced momentarily at him shoving his hands in his pockets again, clicking her tongue with a frown, even though she herself had forgotten to bring something warm to wear to Cordon again. “Alright. I’ll trust you on that. They probably won’t have him up and about like that, given his appearance, and especially if he’s not sticking around by choice.” 

Like Ruli, she turned away, ready to head back into the city. “Yes. Wood. Then, lots of food, if we want to get Ysaryn in a good mood, definitely. Fabric for clothes, quilts, mattresses, yes. There should be more than one person proficient in sewing back in the caves, right?” She was about to say that Envy wasn’t exactly in the best shape to be handling needle and thread, but thought better of it. “Maybe get yourself a coat already, since you’ll probably be going back here more often on supply runs. You might hold your own against a Kartaian but that doesn’t mean you won’t get sick. Colds and fevers spread fast in a small camp, you know.” She paused, then added, “Wouldn’t hurt to find a bottle or two of liquor, maybe.” She was glad for the distraction of their other more mundane tasks; it would help her get her mind away from the thought of wrapping her arms around the slavers’ necks. 

The city was such a stark contrast to what they had left behind in the slums that Kire was almost overwhelmed by it. The strong smells of food, drink, and flowers that accompanied the merrymaking contrasted so sharply with the stink of the warehouse that it fouled up her mood even more, as if it were everyone else’s fault that they had no knowledge of what lay at the outskirts of their own city. By then, it was too late for Kire to get the fresh seafood she had wanted to bring back, especially now that the city, nearing the culmination of the festivities, was at its busiest. This didn’t help her disposition at all. She was silent and glowering by the time the people had begun to get ready for the arrival of Itallo’s bride and her entourage. Apparently, this parade was to be some sort of ceremony in itself: the bride would arrive, guarded in a carriage Itallo had sent ahead for her, and the lord and his men would meet her halfway at some designated point in the city for him to formally welcome her into his protection. 

 “Right. We better hurry and finish up,” Kire said. “I’ve heard so much about this lord bastard, I at least want to see his smug little face, and that Gemini brat he has with him.”